


EB 150 outtakes; How to help a friend cope with losing a loved one.

by FrenchCaresse



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, M/M, Men Crying, Unresolved Sexual Tension, hint of friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-08 16:58:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18898837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchCaresse/pseuds/FrenchCaresse
Summary: “God, he wanted to hug Link.Link was hurting.Bad.And for some stupid masochistic Link reason, he was determined to put it all out there for the listeners of the podcast.Link's voice got deep and all the intonation went out of it, but he kept talking. Rhett's throat hurt for him.”Alternate reality of how things could have gone down after Ear Biscuit #150; How do you cope with losing a loved one.





	EB 150 outtakes; How to help a friend cope with losing a loved one.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> I do not know Rhett and Link. I am in no way implying any of this is true. This is a work of fiction.
> 
> Contains hurt and grief and light sexual exploration for mature readers.
> 
> Grab the tissues, it’s a tough one.

Rhett swallowed hard.

God, his throat was tight.

Rhett felt... squirmy. Uncomfortable. Itchy. He wanted, _needed_ , to move: he HAD to do... something. Pace in circles, maybe. Punch a wall. _Hug Link_.

God, he wanted to hug Link.

Link was hurting.

Bad. 

And for some stupid masochistic Link reason, he was determined to put it all out there for the listeners of the podcast.

Link's voice got deep and all the intonation went out of it, but he kept talking. Rhett's throat hurt for him.

Of all the stupid stubborn stunts... 

Rhett bounced his foot under the table. Link was so determinedly _not_ crying that Rhett's eyes watered in sympathy. Even when his voice gave out, again and again, Link deliberately did  _not_ touch his eyes. He stared at an empty spot on the table, sharing his final experience with his Pa-pa, and even pulling coherent lessons from it.

Link was ridiculously strong, to be able to get himself back under control so many times in a row. Rhett almost wished Link's control wasn't so good; if he burst into tears, maybe he would call the whole podcast off.

Damn, Rhett wanted to call it quits and get the heck out of the suffocating room.

Rhett didn’t. It wasn't his decision to make. This Biscuit had become Link's show, and somehow he was still trudging on. Maybe it was his level of pain tolerance that was the problem, not his self-control.

Rhett _made_ himself listen, clenching and releasing his fist on his knee. He knew that sharing this experience was important. He _got_ what Link was trying to do. It was noble and inspiring and that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

Rhett boiled with too much emotion, primarily the bone-deep urge to protect Link.

It had been his role for thirty goddamn years!

Except today, Rhett was helpless. There was no bully to fight, no spider to smash.

Rhett couldn't stop Link’s grand-pa from dying.

He couldn’t stop Link from being torn apart by grief and it was fucking killing him.

It was torture for Rhett to sit there and steep in Link's suffering.

It was all wrong, this exposure of the pink squishy insides of Link’s loss.

Rhett was stuck in his own too-small skin, sweating and using every single last fiber of restraint he possessed not to run away.

And then Link was wrapping up, finally. The talk turned to a brief discussion about their own deaths, and Rhett just _couldn’t._ He shared his own grandfatherly experience a bit, keeping it coherent to Link’s theme, and then -thank god- the podcast was over. 

Rhett huffed a giant breath.

It didn't help.

The air of the room -the very space in-between the atoms of oxygen- was charged with thick tension. 

Now that the cameras were off, Rhett kinda expected Link to crumble and bawl his heart out. 

He was not prepared for Link to simply start gathering his stuff; cell phone into pocket, jacket over arm and stack of lyrics to proof-read jammed into a dog-eared red folder. The shadowy light reflected off Link's glasses and Rhett couldn’t see his eyes properly. He thought Link was avoiding looking at him, expression guardedly distant.

”Link.” Rhett began, only to be superbly ignored.

Link stood up, nearly knocking his mug off the table.

”I... I guess I’ll be going then.” Link announced to the room in general, screwing his cap on and staring at his shoes. 

Stunned silence met his nonchalant sentence.

The door was swinging closed by the time Rhett scrambled after his best friend, after a minute of sharing confused stares with Jen and Pierce.

Link was acting perfectly normal.

Which was very _not_ normal.

Normal was _not_ normal after spending the last hour hovering on the edge of a melt-down.

Rhett’s worry cranked up six-fold.

It was a relief finally _move_ , stretching his long legs in a hurried walk.

....

 Link was unzipping his back-pack when Rhett burst into their office.

”Link.” Rhett started again, then lost the rest of his sentence. Fuck.

Link turned to Rhett and his expression was almost normal. Almost.

There was something... brittle... in his half-smile that took all the words out of Rhett’s dry mouth.

Link stared back at him, letting the awkward silence build.

”I...” Rhett stuttered.

God. He was still misplaced, out of his skin. How did he address the last painful hour?

”I really wanna hug you.” He blurted, too fast and unfiltered, because raw emotion turned Rhett’s brain to sludge. 

Something flickered over Link’s neutral expression.

His face twitched and his eyes flashed blue-er; he turned away silently to grab his water bottle, shoulders up around his ears. Rhett thought the last expression he had seen was fear.

Link was hurting.

Bad.

Things were going to be okay; Rhett was finally going to hug and comfort his friend.

Rhett took a relieved step forward before Link's icy answer stopped him. 

“No.” Firm, irrevocable.

Rhett froze.

Anger ROARED behind his eardrums. How dare Link refuse? Link needed a hug, Rhett would give it to him. Period. Who did Link think he was? Refusing Rhett’s genuine effort to help?

Link was hurting. 

Bad.

Through the red fury of humiliated outrage, a small analytical part of Rhett’s brain knew he was being unreasonable.

The little nugget that was not swept up in frustration realized how ridiculous Rhett was being.

Link was hurting.

Bad.

Link could decide if he needed a hug. Or not.

Link had just returned from saying good-bye to his grand-pa; he was holding himself together with spider-breath and stubborness.

Rhett had no right to get so damn freaking mad if Link didn’t want a hug.

“Okay.” 

Shit, the red-tinged adrenaline rush of righteous anger made Rhett’s voice tight and strained.

And of course, Link recognized the hurt for what it was. He took Rhett apart and pieced him together in ten scalding seconds. 

Link apparently needed to appease Rhett, even when he was in survival mode. He pushed his cap off, the hard flat brim thunking onto the desk. Rhett could see Link’s hands shake from across the room.

”I. I can’t.” Link explained.

“Not here...Not at work. Please.” he finished in a near whisper.

Rhett had to grab onto the desk, physically holding himself back from crossing that floor and putting his arms around Link.

Link was hurting.

Bad.

So bad, Christ.

All the anger and argumentative words twisted and curled onto themselves and Rhett choked on the bitter lump. 

His head swam.

Link did not want to break down at work. Link NEEDED to break down. The power to crumble him was in Rhett’s hands. One little touch, one well-placed sentence and the fragile stitches holding Link’s control would shatter.

Not at work. 

God, Rhett was so mad at the whole goddamn situation.

Rhett realized vaguely that he was frustrated because that was his default. In his own his psyche, sadness and pain still morphed into anger despite his therapist's efforts.

And Rhett hurt, bad, to see Link in so much pain.

Rhett really needed to hold his best friend; he was dying to initiate the contact that would comfort Link.

Because he needed it to comfort  _himself_.

Fuck.

Link was denying himself relief, denying Rhett relief, denying both of them comfort; respecting his wishes made Rhett feel even more helpless and THAT just fuelled the rage.

Rhett really really wanted to punch something.

Link, infuriating and too pale, was bent over, ending the session on his computer.

Rhett tore his eyes away and strode to his chair; his movements were stiff and jerky as he yanked his jacket on and pocketed his keys.

”Where do you think you’re going?”  Link probed.

His tone was nasty and bitchy, shit; the anger Rhett had barely stomped on reared again, itching for a fight.

Rhett forced a breath through his nose.

”I hardly think you’re in a state to drive.” He said.

And his voice was dismissive and cutting and he knew it; he was a jerk and god, he really needed to kick something.

Link took the provocation as expected, back straightening and face going red. 

After a pregnant pause where Rhett thought he could actually hear Link’s molars grinding, the smaller man pivoted and walked straight out.

Rhett followed.

Christ, this was not the moment to get into a fight!

They were upset, both of them, and the situation was explosively volatile. It would be so easy to get pulled into a shouting match, venting at each other like they had done so often before.

They weren’t teenagers anymore. They both had enough awareness to realize the real issues that needed dealing with. Still, old patterns were hard to break.

It was really hot out, fucking California, and harshly bright. 

Link handed over his keys without a word and slunk into the passenger seat of his own car.

Rhett grimly reversed and set off into not-so-bad early afternoon traffic.

Soon.

Link was getting that hug, damn him.

...

Now that is was just the two of them and the sounds of the road, it was hard for Link to hold onto the combativeness.

The acute pain of loss was packed tight in his chest, and the pressure inside kept rising with every passing minute.

Oh god. He couldn’t deal with it.

Link’s eyes burned and the sobs were backed up in his throat.

Oh god.

Pa-Pa.

The vision of Pa-pa from last week flashed through Link’s mind. It was so wrong; thinking of his Pa-pa with sunken cheeks and a frail corded neck, lying weak in white hospital-smelling sheets made Link double over with a hand clasped to his mouth.

”I’m not gonna make it.” He warned Rhett through his teeth.

A single sobbed forced it’s way out.

“I’m gonna break down in the car!” Link panicked, high-pitched and shaky.

Rhett’s two fingers looped through Link's, ring and little fingers crooked together. He tugged Link’s left hand from his face and onto the gear shift.

”Breathe. You’re okay.” Rhett’s voice was warm and smooth. It loosened the bands over Link’s chest, enough for him to draw a wheezing inhale.

”Doing so good.” Rhett crooned.

Link closed his eyes and concentrated on his best friend’s voice until the vice in his lungs let up, a bit.

”Besides, you can’t break down in the car.” Rhett added “It’s a crappy dad car. ” 

Link “Heyed” weakly and Rhett continued over him.

”If you want to have a break down in a car, you should at least pick a hot manly car. Even things out.”

Link snorted.

”Or maybe you could invent a car that runs on tear-drops.”

Link snorted louder.

”I’m serious!” Rhett was revving up, defaulting to rant mode Link could tell.

“Tears are salt water. Dude. Listen. The ionic properties of the saline solution mean that electricity ....” Link tuned out the individual words, letting himself float on the barrage of sound. He registered occasional phrases,  like “in the zhombie apocalypse” and “there was a study done.” Mostly though, he let the familiar ups and downs of Rhett’s voice lull him into a pleasant sleepy state.

Link smiled shyly, catching Rhett’s eye.

_Thank you_. He meant. _Thank you for distracting me._

Rhett squeezed their two fingers that were still hooked together bruisingly tight for a second. Sunlight slanted over the seats and warmed their faces while Rhett raved on about the internal combustion engine.

...

Link walked up to his front door and froze there, so Rhett gave him a nudge. When Link still didn’t move, Rhett pushed in front to key in the code.

Link followed him into the slightly echoey stillness of a sleeping home.

“Christy?” Rhett asked

Link shrugged. “Out.”

Now that they were safe, Link was crazy nervous.

Rhett walked to the family room and sank into the couch with a groan. He watched Link buzzing about.

Link circled the room, opening the curtains then fiddling with the blinds until the room sank into airy dimness.

He walked into the kitchen, then back out. Next he went into the bathroom, from which he came back with a box of kleenex that he placed on the coffee table.

Rhett waited.

Link sat gingerly at the furthest edge of the couch, then bolted back up to toe his shoes off in the foyer. After a brief hesitation, he hopped around on one foot tugging his socks off.

Rhett waited.

Link finally came back to sit on the couch with a defeated sigh.

Rhett waited.

“I don’t wanna do this.” Link whispered to the shiny floor.

Rhett nodded. It wasn’t exactly hard to tell.

Link fidgeted with his glasses, finally taking them off and placing them on the coffee table by the tissues. He scrubbed a hand over his face, then tugged a leg under himself.

“I’m better. I don’t need to cry.” Link lied.

Rhett snorted.

“Fine.” Link huffed. “I don’t need to cry _as bad as earlier._ ” 

Rhett remained silent. Link’s chin jutted stubbornly.

“I could... not?” Link tried, hesitantly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Rhett rumbled. “You need to mourn properly. For yourself. And Pa-Pa.”

Link pulled his other leg under himself, hugging his arms around his middle.

“I know.” Link admitted forlornly.

“Just... I’m scared... s’gonna hurt.” Link’s fingers moved moved moved, twisting into weird spastic shapes in the air in front of him.

Rhett shifted closer, sliding a hand across Link’s back. His grey t-shirt was soft and worn, but underneath thin cloth the muscles thrummed tight. Link was ram-rod straight, tense under Rhett’s slowly rubbing hand.

“I know.” Rhett answered quietly, keeping up the smooth circling.

Link’s back gradually rounded under his friend's touch, until he leaned heavily into Rhett, pressing their shoulders together.

“S’ why I’m there.” Rhett told his best friend.

Link swallowed thickly. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“I can't just... How do I....” Link let out, frustrated, after a few more minutes during which their bodies slowly melted together.

Rhett took a slow breath, filling himself with the warm smell of Link.

“Talk to me.” He guided gently. “Tell me about Pa-Pa.”

Link whimpered and started to gnaw the corner of his thumb-nail.

Link had stopped nail biting in college.

Rhett waited, letting the peaceful silence grow.

“Tell me what your best memory with him was.” He eventually urged.

Link coughed and his face turned red.

Rhett knew when Link decided to take the plunge because his eyes closed and he drew inwards, calming.

The fidgeting stopped and when Link’s eyes opened, they were grey-blue intense and far away. He stared at the abstract floral motif on the tissue box, clearing his throat before saying.

"I... I can’t pick... Why do people say that, even?" It was an abstract complaint, lacking the abrasiveness of someone picking a fight that had been present in his tone earlier.

"How can you choose one best moment out of all the, the million things you shared with someone in your life!" Link's voice cracked.

"Why can’t I choose all of it; Pa-Pa talking with me when Dad left, eating meatloaf on sunday, teaching me how to drive, watching those stupid shows on... oh god!"

Link’s voice choked off. Suddenly, he was too close and staring right into Rhett’s eyes.

"Oh god. He’s passing." Link wavered with dreadful realization.

Rhett’s heart cracked straight in two.

"He’s dying, Rhett. Oh my god. I’ll never see him again; Pa-Pa is dying, for real, oh,  _oooh_."

Link curled over with his hand pressed to his mouth again; unlike in the car, he continued to unravel, pained sounds spilling out from behind the barrier of fingers.

His breath whistled through his nostrils and his mouth twisted down. Rhett braced himself.

"Shit, shit!" Link sat straight up, eyes flicking unseeing around the room in panic. "I’m going to be sick, Rhett, oh god. Argh."

Link made a weird pained hiccup sound, hyperventilating.

And okay, it was not competely unheard of for Link to throw up under stress but...

"No." Rhett told him. He crushed Link into a tighter sideways hug.

"You’re going to cry, because you need it man."

"Ooooooooohhh." Link keaned, a wounded sound of distress Rhett had never before heard from him. It tore down to the root of Rhett's soul and scratched furrows of compassion into his very core. Link fought his way out of Rhett's hold, flailing uselessly and panting.

Lord.

Abruptly, all the fight went out of Link.

Finally.

He gave himself over to the pain.

Link curled over, burying his hot face in his folded arms over the armrest, and he cried.

Link cried and cried and cried.

God, he hurt.

Rhett periodically pressed new kleenex into his sweaty fist. Link cried and intermittently blew his nose, uselessly swiping at his cheeks, which were constantly wet with the pent-up tears he hadn't shed during the long journey home and back. 

Link cried, ugly and raw.

Mouth open, he drooled on the couch, _gross_ , trying to remember to breathe.

Link thought he would never stop crying. He might die of heartache.

His throat hurt with sobs and his neck hurt from being curled over so long, and _everything_ hurt; most of all the life-sucking void where his heart should have been hurt like heck.

Link cried so much that he got a stitch in his side and he felt weak all over. He had never ever cried this much.

Yet he  _still_ couldn’t see the end of the river of grief.

Pa-Pa was dying.

...

Rhett stayed by Link’s side through the whole storm of tears.

He kept a hand on him at all times, reassuring contact he wasn’t even sure Link noticed.

He whispered useless soothing nothings and wiped his own tears from his beard.

...

Finally, the crying stopped.

There were several lulls, times when Rhett thought Link was done. Moments when Link caught his breath and quieted. But then his back shook and his breath shuddered and sometimes he whined; hot endless tears flooded his cheeks and dripped off his nose again. And Rhett was pressing another kleenex into his hand and prying the soggy wadded up one onto the floor.

Link cried.

Until finally, the tears stopped.

Link was cried out.

He still hurt though, underneath the light-headed nakedness of the emotional purge.

...

Rhett waited until he was certain Link was okay to unglue himself from his heart-broken friend’s back. 

The room spun as he made his way through Link’s familiar house to the bathroom.

Rhett looked like shit, he decided, eyes red and haunted in the mirror.

He let the water run glacier-cold, splashing his face and getting the counter wet.

He rinsed a washcloth and filled a glass for Link.

...

Link was still curled face-down over the edge of the couch when Rhett returned. His hair was sticking up in clumps and his newly muscular shoulders rose and fell slowly with quiet breaths.

Maybe he was asleep.

“Hey.” Link croaked. Man, his voice was wrecked. Rhett winced.

He squatted, setting a hand on his best friend’s sweaty back.

“I gotcha a wash-cloth.” he said.

Link pushed himself up into a sitting position, squinting glassless and vulnerable.

“Feel like shit.” he moaned, trying to tug his hair back into something more tame. It went about as expected, mirrorless and using only his fingers.

Rhett placed the washcloth on the back of his pal’s hot neck.

Link jolted, but gratefully pressed it to his puffy eyes; he eventually wiped his whole face with soothing coolness.

Rhett sat back down beside him, silently handing Link the glass of water.

“I got a head ache.” Link muttered.

Rhett uncurled his fingers to reveal the two tylenol inside.

Link’s eyes watered and Rhett worried he had set him off again.

But Link only managed a wobbly smile and a weak thanks, downing the pills and half the glass in great gulps.

Something unwound in Rhett. Light filtered into the inky fog choking his heart.

“I’m gonna go the whole way man,” Link said cryptically. “If you’re being so nice.”

Rhett raised his eyebrows at him. 

“I need the whole girly hug thing.” Link stated.

Rhett didn’t understand, until Link was clambering over his lap, sitting sideways and wrapping strong arms around him. The man was dense, full of hard muscle, and his ass was really bony so Rhett spread his legs and dumped Link onto the couch cushion between them.

Better.

Link melted there, sinking into Rhett’s torso with a pleased sigh.

This was nice, this holding a warm armful of needy Link.

Link cuddled against Rhett, his breathing now calm and relaxed.

Link was just shorter enough that his head naturally rested on Rhett’s shoulder. Rhett tightened his arms around his best friend. It was just the two of them, quiet and comfortable.

Together, they recovered.

Rhett hugged Link to his heart’s content, fucking finally.

...

...

...

Rhett thought Link was asleep, when his friend’s voice hissed vehemently into his collar-bone.

"Don’t you ever die on me, Rhett."

The peace shattered; Rhett's idle thoughts screeched to a trainwreck halt, all the cars jumbled together in a mangled wreck.

His impulse was to reassure Link that _no_ , he wouldn’t die. All the philosophical calm of the podcast imploded. Nothing was certain.

He couldn’t promise anyone, even Link, that he wouldn't die, could he?

He couldn’t promise not to die, and shit,  _what if Link died first?_ Rhett wouldn’t survive; he couldn't, wouldn't, _refused to_ even imagine the possibility! 

And suddenly Rhett was desperate for Link, couldn't get close enough. He was hot all over, shaking, and he realized one of them whimpered as urgency swamped him. Maybe the sound was from him.

Link pushed his nose into Rhett's neck, insistent poke of hard cartilage; he was hiccuping frantically again. But Rhett was too upset, he couldn’t ground them this time.

He couldn't let Link die; he needed Link like air, like food, like life. God he was so cliché. 

Rhett vaguely realized that it was no longer only Link’s moist breath on his neck, but his lips.

His soft wet lips that were mouthing at Rhett’s skin; tasting it, licking him in shy kisses that swelled bolder when Rhett grunted and arched his neck greedily.

_More_.

He needed more Link; he couldn't get enough of Link.

Rhett and Link's thoughts pretty much ran on parallel tracks usually. So Rhett wasn't surprised when Link pulled away from molesting his neck. There was raw desperation in Link's eyes and he was pretty sure it was mirrored in his own. They were going to kiss.

Barriers down and control obliterated, it was inevitable really.

Rhett was dizzy; he couldn’t lose Link, he just couldn’t, wouldn’t, _refused to_...

He needed more, _needed Link_ ; a great yawning pit of need he didn’t know how to fill.

And then they were kissing, wet and frantic and with teeth crashing; whoever was making that whining noise stopped.

Rhett kissed with his eyes open, responding on pure instinct.

He couldn’t lose Link; couldn’t, wouldn’t, _refused to!_

Link was grabbing his biceps too hard. Rhett’s brain finally caught up and processed that _he was_ _fucking kissing Link._

The naked urgency relaxed.

Rhett was not losing Link.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

He refused to.

Link was in his arms and kissing him back; Rhett could taste the salt of tears on his lips.

Rhett was fucking kissing Link. 

Rhett made a decision. He closed his eyes, inhaled deep and added tongue to the open-mouth uncoordinated clash. Link groaned in response, deep and lusty.

Their kiss swelled. It transformed from something animal and raw to a headier determined kind of teasing pleasure.

It became sexual.

Rhett and Link responded brilliantly to each other as desire spiked. They were so used to being in sync that Rhett shouldn't have been surprised that this unplanned make-out session was becoming one of the hottest of his life.

Link was a phenomenal kisser when he calmed, gradually taking charge of the interaction.

Rhett let him, following his lead with the corner of his lips curling into a little smile. It was so very _Link_ of his partner to need to be in control, even in a new and unpredicted experience. 

Rhett melted, enjoying the gentle teasing licks and deep spearing tongue-pushes that made his stomach clench. God it was good. Together, they explored the give and take, the natural rythm of growing passion.

It was like high school again, if they had dared to experiment with each other back then. So good and yet not enough.

Avoiding second base despite the gnawing hunger for more contact. Rhett and Link restrained themselves to kissing by unspoken agreement. 

It was right.

Rhett’s cock was hard, _so hard_ , and Link's thighs were tight under his palm. 

Control was slipping away from both of them; increasingly needy sounds filled the afternoon air. The kiss was beginning to grow dangerously hot. Their tongues worked together, and the sideways position was irritatingly wrong. Dear Lord, did they need crotch contact. Rhett twisted his fingers into Link’s belt loops, to stop them from trailing into forbidden territory. Links fingers were shaky, all over his chest. _They needed to be naked._

They couldn’t.

Rhett wouldn’t.

Link refused to.

Even if they were consumed to charred remnants of denied lust.

They couldn’t...

Finally, Link pulled their lips apart. Rhett chased after the kiss and Link groaned. He rested their foreheads together, and they breathed each other's air. 

When they were calm enough to physically separate more, Rhett drank in the vision of Link aroused.

Blushing and disheveled, with dried tear-tracks on his cheeks and oh god, Rhett loved him.

In that moment, he wanted to have sex with Link.

He couldn't lose Link.

Rhett’s dick gave a viscious twitch, but he already knew they couldn’t.

They wouldn’t.

They refused to. 

This stolen moment was a freak accident. Link knew it too. It was how they worked sometimes, connected and wordless.

Link gave Rhett an enigmatic smile, half regret and half pride. His ears were red.

Link settled in against Rhett's chest again, snuffling close. He listened to the gallop of Rhett’s heart racing with lustful passion until it slowed to a powerful primal beat.

Link shuddered a few times, when the urge to kiss Rhett peaked acute again.

They didn't kiss.

Link squeezed his eyes tight and ignored how his erection poked at his belly until slowly, finally, his body calmed.

...

A long floaty moment later, Link disentangled himself from the embrace and offered Rhett a beer.

Rhett palmed his aching groin a few times while Link was in the kitchen, settling his semi into a more comfortable angle.

God.

Link looked calm and exhausted when he returned, setting two craft beers on the floor by Rhett.

Rhett grabbed a throw pillow and set it in his lap. Partly to hide the still-bulging fly of his pants, but mostly because Link looked like he might fall over any second.

Link didn’t hesitate to lie all along the length of the couch and rest his head in Rhett's lap.

Rhett swallowed a mouthful of beer that was too hoppy for his tastes, carbonation fizzing in his nose. He watched Link’s side profile on the red cushion on his knees.

"Thanks." Link whispered quietly.

Rhett squeezed Link's shoulder, then threaded a hand into his best friend's hair. He idly carded through the grey and black, until Link purred and his eyes closed.

Within minutes, Link was asleep.

Rhett watched him doze; he indulged in running his fingers through Link's silky hair long after Link was too out of it to realize Rhett was still doing it. 

Rhett ended up drinking both beers, stealing the quiet moment with Link all for himself.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the kiss, but he didn’t think it would change much in their friendship. This was a one-time slip, born from fear of loss. Rhett didn’t regret it. He hoped Link wouldn’t either.

Rhett tucked the memory into a secret chamber in his heart. 

Link was his best friend.

Rhett sat and watched him sleep.

... 

Christie found them that way two hours later.

She stopped in the doorway, taking in the multitude of kleenex balls, the beer bottles and Link’s sleeping, still blotchy face.

Her eyes watered and she mouthed _thank you_ at Rhett, obviously guessing the gist of what had happened. 

Rhett tried to smile back, wondering what she saw in his face. He felt stripped naked and flayed.

Rhett bent lower, breathing onto Link's five-o-clock shadow.

”Hey man.” He said.

Link muttered, rolling onto his back.

Fuck. Rhett swallowed. Link was obviously still very erect, faded denim pulled tight over the unmistakeable bulge between his legs. Fuck.

“Christie is home!” Rhett said, except his voice had gone gruff and his balls ached.

Link blinked sleepily, eyes flickering before opening limpid blue and staring right at Rhett.

He stretched, grunting, and then his eyes widened a bit as he realized the state he was in.

His eyes narrowed. Rhett knew he had been caught stealing another look at Link’s clothed hard-on.

Time suspended. It gave a slow turn in a crystal spiral.

Nothing happened. No tectonic shift in their relationship.

Life resumed itself. A lawn-mower buzzed in a neighbor’s lawn, and dishes clattered in the kitchen. The outside world intruded into their bubble and their friendship emerged intact.

Rhett exhaled.

Link pushed to his feet and fumbled for his glasses.

They couldn’t.

They wouldn’t.

They refused to.

Link followed his wife into the kitchen and Rhett listened to her concerned murmur while he pulled himself together..

He would never lose Link.

Ever.

He couldn’t bear it.

Rhett grabbed the empty beers and made a ton of noise, announcing his arrival into the kitchen. Maybe the kids could come over with Jessie. He could go out and get something to barbecue. 

Link liked steak.

...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me!
> 
> Xxx
> 
> FrenchCaresse


End file.
